


The Unsinkable

by Subtrop



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Female Friendship, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Mental Health Issues, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29203368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtrop/pseuds/Subtrop
Summary: The girls finally got off the island; they left a world full of hassles, hardships, sadness, anxieties. After returning to the States, everything about the experiment comes to the surface and the girls realize the world they wanted so much to return to is still the same, but they're not; the island won't let them forget about it as it has marked them forever.
Relationships: Fatin Jadmani & Leah Rilke, Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.
> 
> This is my first story here and hopefully you'll enjoy it at least a little. English is not my first language so sorry if there are some mistakes or stuff hard to understand.  
> I would love to dig deeper into the mental states of the girls after the island, talk about the relationship of Shelby and Toni, also of Fatin and Leah and some other stuff of course.:)
> 
> Also I don't own any of the characters, this is a fanfic based on The Amazon Prime's The Wilds (2020).
> 
> Leave a comment if want to and have a nice day!

It wasn't sudden, it had been expected hours, then days, then months ahead, yet everyone was taken aback. They became stars of various talk shows, their photos flooded social networks, and they could be found in every newspaper that meant something, and also in a couple where a person would never want to see themselves in. The opportunity to go out, alone or together, was gone, as they were being pursued at every turn either by a crowd of fans - which in itself struck everyone as odd - or by nosy journalists, and occasionally by a young representative of Generation Z longing for information for his new video about conspiracy theories or a true crime story. It cornered them, but at the same time they were all well aware that it could have been - that it had been - much worse. Food could simply be asked for through the hotel room receiver, brought to them, hot or cold, sweet or salty, there wasn’t a danger of starvation or dehydration anymore. People even overlooked - whether it was hotel staff or a talk show host, who at all costs tried to seem perfect and so offered each of them several drinks before the program began - that some of them were partial to alcohol. Yet the knowledge that they were being persecuted, now by the whole society and not just one particular group of people, as they had been before, was incredibly oppressive, and none of them took it well, not even Fatin. They all knew and struggled with the idea that it had been a long time since they felt truly safe, since when they had the opportunity to have their own private bubble, let alone live in it.

The whole world was slowly learning about their story. In North America, of course, it had begun, and as soon as everything about the experiment had surfaced, the information that this, something so horrible and insensitive and, according to some people, even "excusable" had happened, had spread like forest fire; forest fire so merciless and so vast that it had been able to scream it out to the rest of the world, and that it had managed to ignite a few sparks across the ocean. The sparks revolted a good number of people, groups, and organizations, and in a short time the call for justice and retribution began to seem almost like a witch-hunt after Gretchen Klein, which in turn led to an outrage of people who tried to look at the situation objectively and of people who agreed with the woman. And the fact that some agreed with the woman led to more arguments. A vicious circle. The trial in full swing weighed on the girls as much as the thoughts of anything else; everywhere they looked, they were portrayed as victims, as important parts of the experiment, as rich American women who deserved nothing else anyway. That last idea, for at least a few of them, led to contemptuous momentary laughter and utterances of countless insults.

All of a sudden, life involved running through several courts, long police interrogations – for real now - a lot of sadness, anxious moments or rather hours it seemed, many sleepless nights that no longer offered a glimpse of the glittering sky, but of the white or beige ceilings of their hotel rooms. The hotel names changed as quickly as the names of cities and the names of American states they were staying in, but they all offered the same thing - large beds with pleasant sheets, hotel services, bathrobes, large televisions, some even balconies overlooking a dusty city; in short, rather luxurious facilities where girls could wallow in their emotional hardships.

Fortunately, this, too, was coming to an end; they were going to have to sit through one last conversation in which they would have to pretend and play by the rules of television, their attorneys, even their own parents, often by rules they were not at all comfortable with. This was not always the case, some interviews, even a few interrogations were led by good, kind people who tried to make their situation much easier. They joked around with them, not talking about what had been - in the case of TV hosts - but about what was now and what was waiting for them; so colleges from all over the US, new shows and movies the girls had missed on the island, their beloved families, friends and their pets that they had been missing so much became the most covered topics. These people actually offered something other than stress, frustration and anxiety. Such experiences could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The rest tried to dazzle their viewers with an interesting truly human story, but even for the girls themselves it seemed more like something ripped out of a survival movie. The rest tried to dazzle their viewers with an interesting truly human story; for the girls themselves it seemed more like something ripped out of a survival movie than something real. After some time, they learned at least to wait out the unpleasant moments, even to laugh. Sometimes they got to laugh sincerely, heartily, as if they weren’t in the spotlight for participating in a depraved experiment.

The last interview was to take place in some large, but secluded studio, and it was to be conducted by a famous female presenter whose smile was white and radiant, almost dazzling, who wore nothing that could not easily be found in a well-known magazine about formal but rather playful fashion. She shook hands with all of them quickly, not too firmly, glared at them, eagerly tried to get to know all the girls – though it seemed very staged -, then told them where to go to find their dressing rooms, turned on her heel, and strode off to her own dressing room. In the dressing rooms, there were various employees waiting for the girls. They did their hair and put on makeup – also were met with more resistance from Toni than from the other girls -, adjusted the disobedient pieces of clothing and wished them good luck.

After about two hours of preparation, shouting, and impetuous movements, the studio seemed ready, as did the girls, and the show could begin. Two modern-looking couches were waiting for them on the stage, set side by side so that the host could get a good view of them. The girls sat side by side, Fatin still adjusting herself a little, Toni, sitting a few seats away, cleared her throat and sat down as comfortably as she could, Rachel sat rigidly in her designated seat, her eyes wandering dispassionately through the crowd. Then a production man spoke to people seated in the rows in front of the stage, they began to clap out of the blue, the cameras were ready, and so was the host, who cleared her throat, revealed her Million-Dollar Smile and, with a dying roar of applause in the distance, said: "Our next guests are strong women we all know as the Unsinkable Seven!"


	2. Chapter 2 - Leah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leah dealt with it all in her own way; locked in her room, remembering all that had happened and thinking about what was happening, often in presence of the other girls, most often Fatin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, now about Leah.
> 
> Hope you like it.:)

She didn't know what hotel they were sleeping in this time; she was sure that if anyone woke her up in the middle of the night, she would mistake the state they were in. Her room was very nice, she had to admit, as soon as she first entered it; the colors were not overly bright or dark, but rather aroused feelings of boredom and monotony, which the girl warmly welcomed. She sat at the end of her bed, right in the middle, watching her crush a blanket in one hand. Sometimes she felt too lost in details of the world around her, certainly more so than the others. Her skin was pale, it had already recovered from the inexorable sun, her nails were beautifully groomed. Despite the blanket, she could feel her fingernails digging into her palm. But if she were to be completely honest, she liked the control of the pain she felt in her palm; her knuckles were white, she could see her vein visibly, she could stop all that whenever she wanted.

Control, one of the things she really missed on the island. It wasn't so much the control the girls said Toni sometimes needed when she got into her explosive state. Leah longed for a world where she wouldn't be constantly amazed by uncertainties, questions, and her well-known paranoia. It was paranoia that had put her in a few unpleasant situations on the island; whether it was accusing Shelby, waking up in the middle of the night, or not being able to sleep at all, because she simply couldn't help wondering if something strange was going on, or falling into the hole Nora had led her to. Leah had never been strong enough to resist it, and over time paranoia began to seem like intuition to the girl, leading only to more problems. Every day, before the island, she struggled with obsessive thoughts, occasional compulsions. She didn't want to say she was suffering from OCD or anything like that, but she never really felt fully okay. The word "neurotypical" was certainly out of the question when it came to self-reflection.

All the fuss about the experiment was knocking her down; on the island, she wanted to get away, in the facility to find out what was going on, and now that she was truly free, she didn't know what to yearn for, because the thought of a plan to escape the island or their later prison made at least some sense, but now there was simply nothing left to get out of. She felt as if she had already climbed to the top of Mount Everest, but suddenly she felt the need to get even higher - or, in her case, get lost more, find a place where she could truly hide, find out who to be if she doesn't feel like being herself anymore. All the media attention, and indeed anyone who didn't belong to the Unsinkable Seven made her feel extremely uncomfortable.

She stopped thinking about the bed and began to wander around the quiet room. She could have turned the TV on, even if she wouldn't be watching anything, only to be less absorbed in the utter silence of the room, which was occasionally broken only by the voices of the city. She got to her feet, went to a remote that lay on a chair in front of one of big hotel room windows, turned on the TV, and went back to sit on the bed. Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, hoping it wasn't Dot with another of her ideas; after the island, Dot was the girl that decided to enjoy life as much as possible and it often involved the other girls. Not that Leah didn't enjoy sitting in a bar or swimming in a pool at night, but at least that day, she would rather sit in her shower than spending time with the others. The phone, however, showed a notification from Fatin.

Fatin. Fatin, who was lucky enough to have had her suitcase washed up on the beach after the plane crash - or how it had gotten there -, the girl who had shared all of her clothes with the other girls, loved her electric toothbrush, and could not keep quiet about horoscopes, exotic destinations, and overpriced food. Leah had had problems with her at first, a lot of problems, but eventually, she had gotten close with her, and she had been glad to have her around on the island, to snuggle up to her when she had missed her family or when she had been thinking of Jeff. And Fatin had been there for her, though she herself had been tired and emotionally broke.

She then lay on the bed, wondering if she would answer her, if she would at least view the message to show that she was all right. Fatin often spoke to Leah, but most often she wondered if she was all right, if she needed a company that would help Leah from wandering around in thoughts that often dragged her down. She reached for the phone, unlocked it, and it was right there: "You alright? Want me to come over?" Of course she's asking if she's all right. Leah let out an amused sigh and stared at the phone for a moment, wondering whether or not to invite Fatin. She was mentally and physically exhausted, and she knew that if they turned on a movie or a show, she'd probably pass out in twenty minutes. Which could be a problem.

A problem that she would be okay with more than she wanted. A problem that could lead to her waking up in the morning huddled next to her, one arm around her waist. Already on the island, she'd begun to notice Fatin's eyes on her - though she should have focused more on how she'd looked at Fatin - and how she was reacting to it; not verbally, but physically. Sometimes she would just smile to herself, sometimes her chest would come up with a full drumming performance. Leah had mostly slept next to her, had looked for food with her, had complained about the lack of food, or one of the girls while lying in her lap, looking at her understanding smile and oddly good-looking hair. It wasn't that she was afraid of the possibility that she wasn't straight; rather, she was afraid of losing her. That she would become too close to her and then, eventually, she would leave - maybe even by Leah's fault.

Frankly, she sometimes fell asleep imagining what it would be like to have her right next to her; not for sex, but simply to feel her company, her warm touch on her skin. To be even more honest, sometimes she deliberately invited her to her room for it to happen.

"Come over," she wrote back before she could fully consider her decision.

Fatin sprawled in her bed a few minutes later, sitting quietly, watching Leah anxiously. Leah was looking at her reflection in one of the windows.

"You know, we don't have to talk, but if you're looking for something interesting, you can easily watch a movie or you can just watch me," Fatin said, with a confident smile on her face, trying to hide the growing sense that something was wrong. Leah looked back at her reflection, took a deep breath, and walked quietly to the bed where Fatin occupied most of the space.

"We can watch a movie if you want," Leah offered and looked at the Fatin who was watching her in silence. Fatin talked a lot, often about irrational things, but once she set on analyzing someone - without any effort to hide it -, the person at the end of her view-finder could be sure they were on thin ice, and whatever they were hiding, the girl would see right through it.

Without a word, however, she got out of bed, went to get the remote, and started looking for a movie to watch together. She picked some comedy from 2011 or 2012 or maybe 2015; Leah knew she wouldn't be paying attention anyway, why should she bother then. Fatin sat down on the bed again moving to its frame and with a "Huh?" prompted Leah to sit beside her.

They were watching the movie sitting close to each other, wrapped in a blanket; Fatin was watching the movie, and Leah would occasionally glance at Fatin. Once in a while, one of them would stir under the blanket or steal a piece of it for themselves, or move a little closer to the other girl. Leah tried to tell herself that she wasn't hoping Fatin was touching her leg with her hand - not really touching her, her hand was just lying close to her thigh - on purpose, but every time she felt its touch on her, she would press her lips together, take a deep breath through her nose, and blink. She would look at the girl beside her wishing to see her being a little taken aback as well, but there was no look like that on her face, and so Leah would look down, turn her head to face the TV and draw back from Fatin a little.

She couldn't quite explain to herself why she felt such a big need to feel someone's touch; at least in presence of Fatin. Didn't she have many people revolve around her then? Her parents would probably buy her her own island if she asked them to, as they were feeling so guilty; guilt being of the reasons why they wouldn't let her travel on her own, trying to be with their daughter as much as possible, probably sleeping on another floor of the hotel at that moment. And of course, she could spend time with any of the girls whenever she wanted - even though not with all of them -, go out, try out interesting items on menus of different restaurants or go to a hotel spa with them. She was certainly not alone, solitude and loneliness were not the same thing to her though.

Sometime later, Fatin's voice disturbed her from falling asleep: "You know, we can talk about it."

"About what, exactly?" Leah whispered, straightening up a little in the bed, distancing herself away from Fatin completely.

"About Nora, Jeff, about all this," Fatin said, and when Leah turned to look at her, she noticed a slight frown on her face. Then she went on: "Or we don't have to, that's up to you, but we spent too much time in that place, together, to lie to each other's faces now saying that nothing's wrong since you seem to be in a bad place right now."

Leah was taken aback. She knew she could seem sad and depressed on the outside, but she didn't want to admit to herself that somebody could see through her so easily, understand her so deeply to see how badly hurt she really was. She felt her eyes watering, so she decided not to look Fatin directly in the face and instead returned her attention to her hand, which was searching for something to entertain itself with.

Fatin noticed the attempt, sighed loudly, and quickly grabbed her hand with hers, squeezed it, and stared at Leah again.

"I'm here for you, I'm sure you know that," she added. The movie had already ended, but neither of them noticed. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly screaming at Leah, screaming that she should somehow say goodbye to the girl and send her back to her room; they were both sitting on her bed in the dark, Leah struggling to hold back tears, her heart pounding, her hand still in Fatin's warm palm, and she knew that as soon as she would try to speak, everything inside her would break and she would burst into tears.

That's exactly what happened. Leah was suddenly being held in a tight embrace, sobbing and shivering, feeling her and Fatin's hair clinging to her wet face. Her hands held tight to whatever she could grab as if Fatin's body was a life ring that would hold her above the turbulent ocean that her mind was; it was possible for her to drown in it - it was possible that something would swallow her and never let her breath again. Fatin would kiss her forehead now and then, saying that she was there for her and that it was okay to cry and not to be over the things that had happened on the island and what was happening right now to them.

Leah didn't want that, to be so vulnerable in front of another person she cared so much about. She had given herself to Jeff, both physically and mentally, but in the end, it took more than it gave. A broken heart heals slowly, and may sometimes heal completely, but in Leah's case, that one huge scar had led to slow shattering of other pieces of her heart, each of which carried pain, anxiety, and long nights filled with overthinking. And then the island happened of course.

Crying, or rather moaning in Fatin's arms, seemed like yet another of Leah's failed attempts to keep her emotions in check. She wasn't strong at all, couldn't be all right, or at least try to seem like it like some of the girls, and even though she knew none of them was 100% all right, at least it seemed to her that the others wouldn't fall apart like a house of cards after a tiny blow.

Fatin was determined to stay with her all night, to comfort her and kiss her on her forehead and her cheeks, and to look her straight in the eye, if needed, to and tell her that everything would be all right - even if she would have to lie to the girl.

* * *

After leaving the airport, where the girls were reunited with their families and friends - Andrew being there, of course, and a lot of Shelby's friends, Mateo and even Regan showed up - Leah shut herself off. Her family was so excited about her return that they wouldn't leave her alone from morning until late evening, offering anything to her that could remind her of the endless possibilities of the real world again. Leah, however, despite the great joy and enthusiasm of the reunion, fell into her own thoughts, theories, sadness, became entangled in them, and let them devour her helplessly throughout her days. Her family was left with a memory of their daughter, who had reluctantly said goodbye to them at an airport that one day, and in whom they had hoped to return, but instead a much different Leah returned, a person who would hardly ever able to come near that memory again.


	3. Chapter 3 - Shelby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shelby had feared returning home long before it had actually happened. Now she has to learn to live with rules and ideas with which she no longer agreed. And most of all, she finally has to find the strength to stand up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it.:)
> 
> Listen to Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift if you feel like it, I listened to it while writing it.

The airport was full of photographers, journalists, policemen, and countless excited people looking forward to their vacations; on an island or somewhere like that. The girls were flown to their homeland on a private plane from a company that boasted, in addition to luxury interior spaces and services, statistics about not having frequent breakdowns. That at least reassured some of the girls, yet a few required sleeping pills in case they got sick from the idea of being miles above the ocean again.

On arrival, they were greeted by their families and friends. Dot was greeted by Mateo, and Fatin, surrounded by her mother and two younger brothers, invited her to come over to them. Fatin's eyes were dripping with mascara, and though the girl tried to seem uninterested, she wondered why her father didn't show up. Martha was hugging her mother, who wept with happiness and tried to include Toni as much as possible in the tight embrace. She didn't seem as moved as her best friend, yet she shivered in the knowledge that she no longer had to worry about so many of the things that had been bothering her for months on and off the island. A wide-smiling Regan stood some distance away. Rachel was being hugged tightly by both parents, and it was hard not to notice that all three were weeping. Leah clung to her mother by her father's side, and their family dog was excitedly trying to get between them. And Shelby?

Shelby already had felt an indescribable aversion beyond relief as she had left the island; it was not indescribable in the sense that it was so great, but it was simply indescribable - she had never felt anything like it before. She had held on to it since the day the plane had passed over the island and then had forgotten to return, as the girls used to claim sarcastically after some time had passed. And aside from the reluctance, there was no forgetting the occasional anxiety, fear, or thought that if she ever returned home, she would be able to find the motivation to be what she was supposed to be. But not only did she not like that part of her, but she also shunned it.

She had shunned her when she opened her eyes on the beach and the first thing she saw on a new day was Toni; Toni watching the fire, Toni watching Martha cling to Marcus, Toni watching Shelby. She had been shunning her in her daily prayers and had been shunning her the entire time she had been imprisoned in the facility and the small room.

The room - the room that had been supposed to offer the girls a sense of security - had offered a mirror. It had hung across from the shower, perfectly washed, offering the first real glimpse into the future Shelby was supposed to be part of.

One day she had stepped out of the shower, had wrapped herself in a towel, and had stood in front of the mirror. She had watched her reflection in it and had looked into her own eyes, counting all the wounds the island had given her and thinking it was so good to actually see herself after a long time. But she nad no longer been looking at herself, at her present self, a new self even. Pain, an exhausted spirit, but also newly acquired strength and determination in her eyes, she could not and would not ignore. Her gaze hadn't matched her hair, which certainly wouldn't have stood up in any beauty contest no more, yet it had reminded her of one of the worst parts of her previous life; a life when she hadn't been able to stand up to established conventions of her world. That's why one day she had decided to ask for two new razor blades, which of course she had gotten without any prying questions, because who would deny a girl who hadn't had a chance to shower for a long time, let alone shave, something so trivial. She had used the razor blades a little differently than expected. She had sat down in one corner of the shower, letting the hot water flow on her, not even paying attention to the falling strands of hair that had reminded her so much of what she no longer had wanted.

When they had first seen her the next day, they had been startled, and on the same day a psychologist - if he was a psychologist at all, she would wonder later - had talked to her about her mental state. Had something happened on the last day that had made her feel bad? And if so, what? Had she thought of hurting herself in the shower? Could she roll up your sleeves, please? Shelby had paid little attention to their fears. She had been satisfied with her haphazard decision and its consequences, and at last, had felt some weight lift from her shoulders. She had smiled at the psychologist from time to time, ignoring his looks and questions completely; at other times, she had chosen to stray from the subject for fun, to make it difficult for the man. She hadn't been going to say anything she hadn't felt like saying.

In the overnight flight, she had clung to Toni at night, under one blanket, her hand gripping hers, watching her silently. She had been remembering the moments when she'd had a chance to sleep at first a distance away from her, then right next to her and with her, and had been regretting every lost moment she'd wasted when she couldn't even look her in the eye without a thought of the Bible; their time on the island had suddenly seemed like a brief chapter in Shelby's life, while life had already begun to write another one. She had been hoping everything would be all right, that she would do whatever it took to stay the way she had been now; a promise she had known she might not be able to keep, but what she had hoped for.

The fear of a family reunion had tormented her long before it actually happened. Toni had been crushing her hand just before she had to let go. They both had known that Shelby's father could see them together if they hadn't been cautious enough. Shelby hadn't wanted to risk it, and she had been afraid it might rob them of their chance to see each other again in the future without any major problems visible in the background. Toni knew of this fear, and she hadn't blamed the girl when she had just looked her in the eye before saying goodbye, pulling her close, holding her for a moment, then pulling away from her a little more slowly to kiss her lips - very gently and with the promise that everything would be all right - and then letting her go.

The whole family was waiting for her at the airport. Her mother didn't look as neat as she usually did when she went to church every Sunday, yet she was clearly struggling to hold on. The girl's father was holding her mother's hand; he was frowning, and Shelby wondered at the first sight of him if there was a sternness or fear displayed on his face. Two of her younger siblings were already waving enthusiastically from a distance.

Shelby was able to contain her fear for a moment, and burst into her mother's arms, crying. Moments later, she felt her father's hand on her back, moving in circles as two small children were clinging to her waist. Everyone was crying, and Shelby was holding her cross pendant unconsciously with one hand in her fingers. Andrew was standing a little way off, and luckily he wasn't trying to get to her much, yet at one point he kissed her on the lips, and the girl only hoped Toni wasn't watching her at that moment.

* * *

The trip home went by quietly; her father didn't even put a Christian radio station on as he was used to, for which Shelby was quietly grateful. She was watching the landscape, people, and shops outside the window of their big car and looked out at the fast-food buildings they were passing. Not because she longed for their food, but because she had the opportunity to get it if she wanted to.

Even at the airport, she had noticed that her mother and father were giving her questioning looks because of her hair. Shelby had noticed that her mother had glanced around her now and then, and then had looked back at her as if she had been afraid of the looks people might be giving them. The girl would be lying if she said it hadn't hit her at all, the visible looks of disapproval, but at least at the airport, surrounded by her family, she could suppress the growing urge to mourn the unpleasant sights. Neither parent had commented on it, but their discomfort had been visible. Her father had been smiling, though his smile hadn't quite matched the look in his eyes, and for a moment Shelby had allowed herself to trust his loving embraces and smiles.

* * *

A few days passed since her return, and Shelby had already revisited every corner of her house and room. One day she managed to cast a few glares at the shiny beauty pageant trophies until she couldn't stand them, even though she tried to ignore them, found a cardboard box in the cellar, and put all the trophies in it. Her mother noticed that the trophies were missing from the shelf beside the bed that night before dinner - another meal Shelby loved - when she came to tell her daughter that the meal was ready, but she chose not to comment. But Shelby saw her gaze; the woman was baffled, Shelby could have sworn there was fear in it, too. She gave her mother only a small smile, however, and then stretched out toward the box to straighten the trophies a little.

Memories of the pageant world weren't the only thing Shelby wanted to part with. One afternoon, the day after the trophies, she devoted her energy to searching her room and pondering whatever came her way. Pictures of her friends who suddenly seemed like total strangers to her, pictures of Andrew, who had been a full house since her return, pictures of Becca. She put the photos of Becca on her desk and put the rest of the photos in another box. She chose not to throw away bits of her clothing - or, rather, not to donate to charity - because she realized that on the island she would have given God knows what for a hoodie or a blouse. She arranged her stuffed animals on the bed, but she threw away the one from Andrew, which had been given to her as a present for their six-month anniversary.

Family dinners were relatively quiet, and no one dared to ask about the island or Shelby's hair when there was talk. There were countless genuine and insincere smiles, tears, Shelby would scoop up more food than she could eat. Occasionally she would watch her family in silence, remembering evenings on the island spent by sitting by the fire, being surrounded by seven of her friends. One evening, at dinner, she seemed to be touching her short hair too often, which earned her a few glances, and finally, it was her mother who dared to ask first: "Shelby, honey, what happened to your hair?"

Shelby was baffled by the question. She knew she couldn't avoid the subject, but she hoped it would come after all the others. She stopped going through her food with her fork she had already eaten enough of that night and looked up at her mother.

"I shaved them off," she explained simply, looking down at her plate again. There was silence at the table.

"Why would you do that? You had such beautiful hair, I'm sure something could be done about it," the woman remembered, and it was clear from the tone of her voice that Shelby was close to tearing up. She inhaled loudly and looked away from her plate again.

"They... They really weren't pretty anymore, Mom. I'll grow them back," she explained almost in a whisper, trying not to look her mother straight in the eye; she wasn't brave enough, God knows what she'd learn from them.

"We can buy you a wig, honey, I'm sure we can find some good business. Or we'll go to the hairdresser, Joanne, she'll know what to do," Jobeth offered with a smile on her face and an enthusiastic voice as if she had just saved her daughter's life. If Shelby wasn't such a devout Christian, who is to love her neighbor, her blood would be boiling in that moment; she was crushing a fork in one hand and refusing to look at the woman to her right, to lest she reveals her indignation.

"No, thanks," she reacted curtly, hoping her mother would drop it.

"Sweetheart, the neighbors cannot see-," the woman stopped in mid-sentence with a frightened expression, looked at her husband, who gave her silent disapproval, then went on, "Andy cannot see you like that. I'm sure you both would appreciate life being the way it was before, without any bad memories being in the picture, like your hair. He was so looking forward to you coming back! When he heard they'd found you, he would call at least once a day to see if you were home already. He's planned so many trips for you! But don't tell him that. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Shelby couldn't take it anymore and growled harshly at her mother. "No, thanks, Mom."

The dining room went deadly silent again. No one seemed to volunteer to start a conversation again, and so the girl broke the silence herself: "Sorry, I just.... I've only been home a few days, I hardly want to drive around Texas right now and spend time with-," she also paused for a moment, aware of how the sentence could be understood, "to spend time with anyone but you. I love you, and I missed you all so much," she said, at last, giving everyone at the table a fervent if somewhat distant look. Her heart was pounding and hurting a little from the knowledge that she was so blatantly lying to them, but she knew she wouldn't be met with understanding if she told them the truth.

The rest of the dinner was relatively peaceful; they all finished their meals, her mother never commented on the hair again, or rather dared not to do so, and the women cleared the dirty dishes from the table and carried them into the kitchen. Shelby then started eagerly toward her room when a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Shelbs," a man's voice stopped her in her tracks, and Shelby swallowed before turning to face the person it belonged to.

"Shelby, we're so glad you're home. You can't be mad at your mom, she just wants you to be happy again," he explained with a smile on his face. Shelby stared at him, arms folded across her chest.

"I'm happy, Dad," she lied.

"That's good, I'm really glad you feel like this. Trust me, everything's gonna go back to normal, it's gonna be like it used to be," he sent a few more words and kind looks her way that screamed that he was sure of his words, and let her go.

* * *

It was a few days later that Shelby began to miss Toni terribly. They called each other every night, though it was a whisper rather than an enthusiastic, loud, eager conversation on Shelby's side, and they tried to feel as close as possible to each other with their words. They talked about the coming weeks when they would be in one place together because it was already certain that they would be guests of several talk shows and that the authorities would want them in one place sometime in the future. They laughed, remembering Fatin's jokes and Dot's sometimes unpleasant but appropriate remarks. They remembered their time together, watching sunrises and sunsets, and what it had been like to fall asleep next to each other or in each other's arms. Toni did not seem to be changed by her return at all - she did not forget to make some well-aimed sarcastic remark here and there during their phone calls, or to remind Shelby how much she spreads out at night, whether on the beach of their island or in a hotel bed.

Toni was supposed to attend some family event that day - even Regan was supposed to be there - and they agreed to call each other the next night. Shelby knew about Regan and the girl's history with Toni, and though Toni had assured her that there's nothing between them anymore, if Regan would show up from time to time, the Texan girl couldn't help but remember how Regan had been watching Toni at the airport. How she had hugged her with all too much eagerness, and how long she had held her close. But Shelby was not about to admit to Toni that she was a little jealous.

After ten PM, Shelby decided to go to sleep; she turned off the light, lay back comfortably in her large bed, which certainly did not have fifty pillows in it, and closed her eyes, thinking of Toni. It didn't take long for her hands to touch her belly, which she ran her fingers gently over. She tried not to pay attention to the cold chain of the pendant around her neck but she was still wondering if her behavior was right for a while. In the end, however, the memories of Tone's smile, her eyes, and the looks the girl had chosen to dedicate to her overwhelmed her, and she gave herself quietly - so that no one could hear her through the walls - to her needs and desires. As she was doing so, her heart was pounding with the knowledge that the day of their reunion was slowly but surely approaching.


	4. Chapter 4 - Martha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The goat. The goat started it all or rather reopened the old wounds Martha had never given a chance to heal. After the island, she would not only face questions but also herself and what had been packing up for years, until it finally made its way into her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Alcohol, depression
> 
> Hello. Next chapter, about Martha.:) Next will be probably about Fatin or Toni.
> 
> You can listen to Lungs by Vancouver Sleep Clinic.
> 
> Hope you like it!

The party, or rather a get-together of close family members and Regan, had been going on since five in the afternoon and ended fairly early, as Martha's mother had to get up early for work the next day. There was a home-cooked meal on the living room table, a bottle of wine and two hard liquor bottles, and two chairs from the kitchen to give everyone a place to sit. Martha didn't talk much, though she and Toni were supposed to be the hottest topics to discuss. Martha didn't feel like being asked too many questions, though, which her mother understood and told the invitees beforehand that it would be better not to bring up the whole experiment. Toni and Martha were very grateful for her doing that. The evening had thus passed, as far as the discussion had been concerned, in peace, with one exception in the family circle, one funny or happy or story after another, and the girls had tried as hard as they could to pretend to have fun as if there had been enough of such parties in the last few months as if it were completely normal for them.. Martha had been sitting on a couch with Regan and Toni, all the while keeping her eyes on the unopened bottles.

"We're going back to mine," tore Toni Martha out of her reverie, and Martha looked at her. She had been trying to pay attention to Toni in the last few days when the two of them were finally home and able to breathe for a while; she was her best friend, after all, and the girl on the island was her biggest support there, and Martha probably hers. But it was harder for her than she had thought before coming home. Martha gave Toni, who looked tired, a fake half-smile, then watched her and Regan disappear down the hall. She knew that when Toni said they were going back to hers, she meant they were going to her room. Martha's mother had told herself that the girls would need as much privacy as possible after something like this - especially since it was clear that they were about to lose it again, and that they would be on the merry-go-round of trials and interviews for God knew how long - so she had cleared out their little basement, had warmed it up with the help of her family, and had maintained it, and Toni had moved in. The girl was grateful for it, even spending a lot of time there with Martha watching movies on small television or playing board games.

Martha took advantage of her mother saying goodbye to the invited family at the front door and quickly took a bottle of Jack Daniels from the table. Then she disappeared to her room as quickly as she could. She didn't bother to bring a glass from the kitchen, she told herself she'd drink alcohol straight from the bottle. She sat down on a bed in her room, looked at her rabbit, and thought for a moment that she might pet him instead of getting drunk. With her first memory of the island, however, the idea passed. She opened the bottle quickly, staring at the closed door as if someone were to open the door at that exact moment. Then she felt an unpleasant taste on her tongue.

She drank a fifth of the bottle with small gulps. The girl felt herself getting drunk; now and then she laughed to herself at something funny that had happened on the island. For example, when Fatin, with feigned distaste, had had to move her hand to brush her teeth with her broken toothbrush. Dot had joked in the background that the status of the toothbrush was karma for not sharing it, which Fatin had shaken her head in horror, had widened her eyes, and had stared at Dot as if she were waiting for Dot to get scared and call it off. At last, they all had begun to laugh at Fatin's expression.

Martha got out of bed and began to walk around the room with the bottle still in her hand. She didn't bother to close it, she'd still have to open it, a waste of time. As she strolled around the room, her eyes scanned the things that would have screamed "home" a year ago, but now they seemed like something from another planet on which she had once again stood but which she no longer felt part of. She drank after seeing pictures of Toni, her mother, and some pictures from the competitions and rehearsals thanks to which she had always felt connected to her culture.

Suddenly there was a noise from the corridor as if someone had hit a wall, then a door slammed and there was silence again. Martha told herself that the fact that the sound didn't indicate that her mother would crash into her room was a good reason to celebrate, so she drank again.

After a short time, Martha was lying sprawled in her bed, the half-empty bottle standing on the floor beside the bed where Toni used to sleep and she was staring at the ceiling. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she could no longer keep up wiping them, so she decided to let them flow freely.

She knew she had something to be sad about. Everyone around her kept saying how brave and strong she was, that she had survived on her own - though she had not been there herself, the girl would never add that though, to keep the enthusiasm of others from being wasted - on an island where she had been imprisoned by a psychopath. Martha always would always thank them, hoping the conversation would be over. She felt brave, and she certainly felt a lot stronger than she had before. But she also felt emptier and more wounded.

Her leg had long since healed, her hair was cut, she could finally shower, even twice or three times a day, and every morning and evening she could brush her teeth with fragrant toothpaste. She wasn't hurt on the outside - she was certainly lucky, which she realized, Rachel had lost an arm after all, and . . . well, this one person she had lost her life . . . but inside the girl felt as if she were standing on a cliff; a chasm so deep you couldn't see what was beneath it. The cliff made of stones so sharp that any movement would mean more wounds. The turning point had come after the goat, the goat that wasn't that tasty anyway, but at least it had fed them for a few days, plus Shelby and Toni had come back - _Couldn't they've come back yesterday? Couldn't they've run into me on the way back to the beach before I killed that animal?_ \- with a handful of lychees from their little trip in the jungle, so the girls had at least some food supply, plus a promise that the island would offer more than it had originally seemed.

After the goat, however, everything had gone downhill. The shark situation certainly hadn't added to it, Rachel wailing on the beach, or Leah shutting herself off. Martha had tried to stay strong, had tried to focus on the girls who needed it, but she had simply had enough. Her brain had told itself at one point that it had had enough and had shut down in some ways; it had simply turned off its efforts to be so sensitive and empathetic and even so naive. Naivety had gone up the chimney as the first drops of blood had spurted onto Martha.

She was lying in bed, her wet hair clinging to her face, and if she had a little bit of motivation, she would have gone for the handkerchiefs lying on the table. She had neither the strength nor the mood. She decided to reach for the bottle and resume drinking though. She thought about the word "depression," but in her drunken state, she found it funny rather than sad, the word itself, what it represented, that she seemed to be suffering from it. She had never been a person who focused more on herself than on others, she had always been a demonstration of kindness, friendliness, and love. So much love that she could continually give it to Toni, to all the other girls, to her mother, and to the rest of her family, and still have some left. That love now seemed to be in the grip of all the remorse and sadness that had pushed into her daily life, spoiling her days and prolonging her nights.

After a while, she took another big sip, and suddenly her stomach heaved so she jumped out of the bed with lightning speed. On her way to the bathroom, she hit her door first and then bumped a little into the wall opposite her room, but luckily she made it. She tried to vomit as quietly as possible so as not to wake Toni or her mother. Explaining why she's drunk and why she looks like she just finished watching Titanic for the first time to Toni is one thing, but explaining it to someone who loves her more than anything and is willing to be there for her and discuss anything with her is another. She didn't want to look her mother in the eye and explain brokenly that she was feeling like she should have rather stayed on the island.

No one came to the bathroom, and she sat next to it for another twenty minutes or so. She stared in front of her, remembering even more, though now more how he had treated her, how kind he had been, how she had always felt important in his company; how this had all been a lie, her own wonderland, in which she had lived rather than admit the truth. She remembered how she had felt when she testified in court and tried not to cry in front of a jury of strangers. Then she chuckled at how much of a paradox the goat's death was - the moment she had stood up to her past, the moment the first drop of blood had hit her, had involuntarily triggered a tsunami that had been on her tail ever since, and could have swept her away in the first moment of distraction or emotional surrender. Then she managed to get up and made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On her way there, she noticed a half-open door leading to the basement. She probably would have peeked even if she hadn't been drunk but in her drunken state, she felt almost prompted to do it.

The reality was different. As she went down the first two steps, she saw Regan hugging Toni around her waist, Toni had her back to her, and both were covered with a blanket. It was clear they were both asleep, and Martha, frowning, quietly left the room. She thought she might ask Toni about it sometime, rather scold her that it hadn't been that long since Shelby had seen her, but at that moment all she really wanted to do was to find out if there was a clean glass left after the party in the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5 - Fatin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dream life in the viewfinders of cameras and full of sunbeams must wait a while. Fatin returns to her house, receives an unexpected message, and realizes how much she cares about her new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New semester just started, sorry for the delay.:)
> 
> Hope you like it!

The house seemed more colorful and interesting than ever, but still a good deal emptier. Something was missing. Or rather, someone. Otherwise, it was still the same, equipped with expensive furniture, the windows letting in natural light, everything felt comfortable and new and modern.

On the way home, the mother had told the girl that she and her father were in the middle of a divorce. Fatin had been taken aback - her father was the main reason she had had to get on a plane and involuntarily go to an island full of girls to meet, to an island where she was supposed to embrace them and herself, to have a few massages, but her mother had not stood up for her before she had left, and later she had made such a forceful decision. It had made her feel utterly confused but also kind of happy, feeling like the number one for once, like her mother finally decided to choose her instead of the person who had managed to destroy her family. She hadn’t wanted to say anything to her mother that might hurt one of them, so she had grabbed her hand as they had been driven home, had squeezed it tightly, and had wondered about what she was going to do the first moment after stepping in her house.

It wasn't long before she went to celebrate her return to the party, where several people had invited her. Everyone knew who she was, what she had been through - at least in part - they knew her name, the number of followers on her Instagram account skyrocketed. So when she started getting messages from people from friends to posers who used to gossip about her across a school hall, she put up with it.

"I'm going to the party," she wrote to Dot on the way there, put the phone down, and started hunting for the mirror in her purse.

"Drink for both of us!" Dot ordered her, and Fatin smiled to herself after reading the message. She knew she would drink not only for the two of them but for the rest of the island's settlers.

As soon as she arrived, she noticed that the others were glancing at her and whispering about her. She didn't like to admit it, since it didn't fit the character of the influencer she'd planned to be, but the attention made her nervous. Maybe even anxious. She knew she was wearing a dress that showed her enough and guaranteed the dream course and the end of the evening - she was going to enjoy not only the party but the dream orgasm she'd raved about on the island - yet it didn't embrace her as perfectly as it had once done. She'd had her hair "saved" in some expensive salon, which she'd described very dramatically to Dot over the phone - who'd mentioned Shelby's new hair cut - as soon as she got home, yet the girl wasn't entirely satisfied with it. At least the accessories shone the same and the makeup helped hide all the imperfections on her face.

Less than an hour later she was drunk, enough boys who were interested in her had already talked to her, she had drunk almost one whole bottle of vodka and had danced to a few well-known but also some new songs. She was sweating, holding a red cup, and dancing to another of the loud songs, twisting to the beat. Suddenly there were hands on her hips that she let examine her body, leaning back after a few minutes and clutching a stranger, and not even ten minutes later a college boy was leading her up the stairs of the house, trying to find a room.

It took less than half an hour to get home; she was too drunk to walk so she decided to call herself an Uber. The boy walked her to the car, happy and smiling, probably feeling like showing her off as some kind of a trophy to other people at the party. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed the evening, that she hadn't liked the alcohol she drank, that she hadn't enjoyed sex. He had done well, although she might have dreamed it, she didn't really remember it that much. But he had done the job, the boy was probably never to be seen again, his name was Matt or Trenton, she had no idea. Before he opened the Uber door for her, he forced her a crumpled piece of paper with his number on it, and she tossed it into her purse, kissed him good-bye, and fell into the backseat with a sly smile. The boy stared at her for a moment, wondering if he should sit next to her. Fatin knew that he would tell her that he wanted to walk her home, lest something happen to her; she had heard such talk many times before. She finally slammed the door behind her and left him standing there.

It made her feel good to let the boys seek out her company, get her attention. She was always sure of herself in that regard, it seemed natural, she liked to be open and herself. The girl never lacked confidence. On the island, she had managed to convince herself even more of her strengths and work on her weaknesses. She had come back even more sure of herself after all this, but she still seemed to be letting the sadness, the weight of their recent past, and the anxiety of unanswered questions get too close. They would whisper softly on quiet nights, hiding behind cracked walls, waiting to peek out.

The paper with the phone number was already lost among the contents of her purse as she searched for her phone. When she did find it, she immediately noticed that several people had apparently been missing her; Dot had sent her several messages, which she had apparently written under the influence of alcohol. Fatin had to laugh out loud, knowing that her friend was enjoying her regained freedom in a mouthful, that she was dragging Mateo everywhere, and that her evenings often included alcohol.

She ran through the notifications, answered a few people, including a couple of texts in which she was apparently hit on by a couple of boys, but eventually, she read through messages in the group chat called "island bitches":

Shelby: It's a beautiful day in Texas!

Dot: i know, i live here

Shelby: Dottie! I know!

Leah: Girls, I called Fatin, but she didn't answer... need to talk to her about something

Dot: she's gone drinking

Leah: She didn't tell me anything about that..

Toni: don't be jealous

Shelby: Toni! Leah, I'm sure she's fine!

Dot: she's probably fucking with some frat boy

Leah: I see

The conversation seemed casual as if they had all known each other from high school or childhood. Friends who can easily hold a conversation about whatever comes to their minds. For the past few days, they've been texting each other as if all the misery had disappeared with the plane landing at the airport, But Fatin knew it was all a sham.

She laughed out loud as she finished reading the conversation, planning to write something back, but not knowing what; Dot actually described her evening exactly. Then it occurred to her that she might reassure Leah, that she hadn't disappeared, that she didn't have to worry about her. 

She and Leah had become friends on the island, and it hadn't really been hard after the initial problems. Leah had begun to confide in her, at first in reserve, but after some time and few very long lonely days, she had decided Fatin was the one person she would come to for advice, hugs, and a shoulder to cry on. Fatin had tried to seem strong, though she had been tired of it; still, she hadn't wanted to throw the girl the possible impasse of their situation, spread the island-wide pessimism and desperation that accompanied it. She and Leah had used to sleep side by side, go to the waterfall together, bad-mouth their old high school teachers, both becoming very attached to each other.

After a few moments on the phone, she found the girl's number and was startled by the number of unread messages.

Do you wanna call tonight?

Please, I'm not feeling so good today...

I feel fucking crazy

Fatin? Are you there?

Fatin?

Fatin thought about calling her, but because of her drunkenness, she knew it wasn't the best idea; Leah probably wouldn't even understand her drunken language, nor would she want her to listen to her drunk thoughts - whatever they may be. In the end, she had no choice, for the girl had called her herself and Fatin answered immediately.

"Fatin?" She sounded devastated, Fatin's name came out hoarse and tired.

"Huh?"

"Are you home yet?"

"I'm not, I'm going... home," she murmured, trying to straighten up in the backseat as if it would help her articulate her sentences, "what happened?"

She could think of many things to tell the girl about after her successful evening, in fact, she was looking forward to it, but she thought it would wait. 

"I just wanted to talk..."

It sounded like a lie and Fatin noticed it right away. Hasn't Leah learned on the island that Fatin sees right through any bullshit she might try to come up with?

"I know you're lyin'. What's goin' on?"

"It's just... I can't handle it," she was sobbing, but she seemed to be trying to muffle the volume of her crying, perhaps lying with her head half-buried in a pillow. "It's all so crazy, I feel crazy, I can't help remembering it all. Parents, no one will leave me alone. I'm so tired, Fatin." 

Fatin tried to rub her eyes with one hand, pressing the phone firmly to her ear with the other, and tried to figure out what to say. Leah was too much for her sometimes; too sensitive, too paranoid, too thoughtful. At least that's what she had thought of her before they had finally bonded on the island. Gradually she began to discover that it wasn't that she was too much, but that Fatin had only had people in her life before who weren't as unresponsive, emotional, clever as Leah. She found that having such a person in her life could sometimes be tedious and painful, but also enlightening, beautiful and it could make her feel alive; alive in the sense that it opened up new possibilities of looking at the world around her and even herself alone. That life offered many new colors; though in Leah's case mostly dark shades.

"I won't leave your side at the fucking hotel," Fatin told her in a resolute tone that allowed no comment. Not only was she not going to risk the girl trying something stupid but she also wanted to be there so she wouldn't feel so alone. If Leah suffers, she will suffer along with her. She had no idea of the corner of her heart from which such empathy and friendly love came, but as the days passed she became more and more aware that it had all been in her a long time ago, only that she needed to find a person to trigger them in her.

* * *

Fatin got into a car to take her to the airport a few days later. In a few hours, she was scheduled to fly to Texas, the "first stop of their tour," as the girls derisively called it. She was excited to finally see them again.


End file.
